


All Eyes Up for the Lord to See

by toucanpie



Category: His Dark Materials (TV)
Genre: Dirty Talk, Interrogation play, Loyalty, M/M, Masturbation, Mildly Dubious Consent, Power Play
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-18
Updated: 2020-04-18
Packaged: 2021-03-01 03:48:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23428726
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/toucanpie/pseuds/toucanpie
Summary: Yet again the strange and decadent frivolity of Thomas' world struck him, the casualness with which these people watched each other fuck and eat and preen on televisions.
Relationships: Carlo Boreal/Thomas
Comments: 10
Kudos: 22
Collections: Smut 4 Smut 2020





	All Eyes Up for the Lord to See

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Mysalana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mysalana/gifts).



> I've taken the liberty of naming Carlo's snake Sefira, from Zephyr meaning west wind.

Carlo pauses at the doorway to the front room, observing the absence of noise. No keys clacking hurriedly or the TV on low. The curtains are pulled shut and it takes a moment to make out the figure in the darkness, slumped backwards in the chair. Thomas is only visible in the light reflected from the screens surrounding him, soft and vulnerable in sleep.

Carlo slows his steps so not to wake him, moving silently to stand behind the high-backed chair and observe what Thomas had been working on.

One screen is completely dark, a black curtain underneath which anything could have been displaying. The second is a camera feed for a place Carlo can't quite place, an alleyway, maybe the one near the Parry's house, it was difficult to say. The third screen is more interesting. A lurid little tableau of two men fucking in a basement, one with his hands tied behind his back, bent over a padded bench, the other driving into him over and over. Their mouths move and gasp but no sound comes out, their bodies silent as they dance on the screen.

Carlo takes his time in moving closer still, Sefira scenting the air delicately from the collar of his coat. The clammy slide of human body against sweaty human body is of some fascination to her, so alien from the smooth slide of her coils against his own skin.

Thomas had evidently fallen asleep after exhausting himself. The chair he sits in to control his computers is tipped back at an angle, leaving his face open and vulnerable to scrutiny. The light from the active screens flickers across it occasionally as the angle on the video changes. Carlo watches detachedly as the focus switches from a far away camera to a closer look at the penetration of the tied-up man. The silence gives the whole thing an almost theatrical quality, two mimes performing their obscene comedy.

Yet again the strange and decadent frivolity of Thomas' world strikes him, the casualness with which these people watch each other fuck and eat and preen on televisions. There is something refreshingly primal in it, the way they are so apt at reducing themselves to their basest needs with no shame.

Still, he was getting distracted. The door had been unlocked. Thomas was getting sloppy.

He moves to unbutton his gloves but then pauses, changing his mind. With Sefira upright and rapt with attention, he carefully leans over and cups Thomas's bare throat.

Thomas jerks awake, his eyes opening wide and his arms flailing.

"Shh," Carlo says, pressing down gently on the thick arteries of his throat. "Just breathe."

Thomas blinks rapidly, his body tense, but he obeys. His arms settle back down on the chair and his gaze doesn't shift from Carlo's face, his pupils wide from the lack of light.

Carlo eases off the pressure and strokes the skin of Thomas' neck gently, enjoying the way he can feel his warmth through the leather.

"My understanding was that doors into this house should remain locked when not in use."

Thomas swallows. "I -"

"Stop," Carlo says. He'd made it clear from the very beginning that he would never be interested in excuses. "That was a statement and not a question."

Thomas' mouth closes and he stays obediently quiet. Sefira hisses approvingly and Carlo feels his frustrations ease. Thomas is malleable, he knows that. He can be trained and is likely to be worth the effort of doing so. He also looks pleasing when he's lying fucked-out in the bed behind them, a pleasure that Carlo intends to enjoy when they are done with the admonishment.

He walks his fingers up to press against Thomas' mouth and then nudges until Thomas gets the idea and opens up to take them in.

"If my enemies had made it into this house, what do you think they would've done with you?"

Thomas throat shifts like he's about to speak but nothing comes forth and for a moment Carlo is pleased. He presses down gently on Thomas tongue, not looking away. 

If only all men could be so easily silenced.

"Well done on using your brain so far," he says.

Thomas shudders and Carlo smiles. He takes the dossier from beneath his left arm and tosses it carelessly onto the nearby desktop. Thomas's eyes follow it, his head not moving. Carlo enjoys the way he holds perfectly still otherwise, a rabbit trapped in the claws of an eagle. Then he takes that hand to Thomas' neck as both threat and sweetener.

"I think they would've restrained you," he says, keeping his voice casual and light. "Probably forced you down onto your knees."

Slowly he moves his fingers up Thomas' throat, guiding him to tip his head back further. Thomas goes, gazing raptly upwards, his eyes big and dark. Carlo finds it does more for him than the naked bodies crudely working towards their pleasure on the screen.

"I know you like being down on your knees, Thomas."

He bends down so his mouth is closer to Thomas' ear.

"What would you do to get free from them?"

He builds the scenario up in his mind as he touches Thomas casually. The grey beards of the Magisterium all circled round Thomas, asking their questions one by one, their robes hiding their desires no less deviant than his.

He pushes his fingers deeper inside Thomas' mouth. "Would you suck each one of them the same way you so eagerly get down and suck me?"

Thomas shakes his head as much as Carlo's touch will let him. It's a direct question so Carlo pulls out of his mouth, letting Thomas gasp, and then waits, so Thomas knows that he should answer.

"I wouldn't."

"Because you belong to me?"

Thomas nods slowly, looking flushed and sated even though they have hardly started. Carlo takes the moment to explore. It's a pleasant sort of tease not to be able to feel Thomas' skin directly beneath his fingers, to only guess at the delicate throb of his pulse and the tiny goosepimples that are prickling up on his neck.

"What would you say if they asked how you knew me?"

"I -" Thomas stops. "I don't know you." He breathes in with a slight hiccuping to his voice. "We've never met."

"But they have pictures," Carlo says, because he was never going to make it easy. "They show them to you, of me leaving this house."

"You just -" Thomas squirms. "You only come for sex. You never tell me anything."

"Oh, so you're this man's plaything," Carlo purrs. "How much does he pay you?"

He finds the grooves at the bottom of Thomas' neck, just above his collarbone, and slides his fingertips into them.

"It's by the hour," Thomas says, flushing as his chest starts to rise and fall faster.

He's perfect, pink with humiliation, and very very believable. If anyone ever found their way here, they wouldn't thing twice before sucking up every little lie he says.

"And what sort of things does this man ask you to do?" Carlo whispers.

Thomas gasps, gripping the sides of the chair more tightly. He shakes his head.

"Oh Thomas," Carlo says, curling his fingers back around Thomas' neck. "I'm afraid you're going to have to tell us. It's a matter of some importance."

Thomas shakes his head again, his reluctance a pleasing reminder of his loyalty. Carlo looks leisurely down his body and notices that Thomas' trousers have started to tent.

"You don't want us to have to beat it out of you, now do you?" Carlo slides his fingers inside the open neck of Thomas' shirt until he reaches the first button. With one hand he carefully pops it free and then moves onto the next. 

"No," Thomas gasps.

"Perhaps we even already have it on video."

"Please -" Thomas says.

"Look at you," Carlo says, pulling Thomas half-open shirt apart so he can see his pale chest and peaked nipples. He slides his hand beneath the fabric and pinches the skin of Thomas' chest as he likes, first one spot then another, moving closer to his nipples s he goes. "Enjoying our little chat?"

Thomas doesn't answer, but he bites down on his lip. The look he gives Carlo is plaintive, same as it was the first time he queried Thomas about his sexual history, about his desires, about how far he was willing to go when asked.

"Unbutton your trousers," he says.

Thomas's hands move down towards his waist with no further instruction. His fingers are clumsy as he unbuttons his trousers but Carlo can see the bulge beneath the fabric, the way his obvious arousal is making the task harder. Once his fly is open, Thomas pauses. Carlo says nothing, allowing for initiative, and is pleased when Thomas goes ahead and pushes them down until Carlo can see his half-hard cock underneath, underwear something Thomas apparently eschews when working late at night.

Carlo smoothes back the hair from his brow, pleased.

"Good," he says. Thomas' forehead is damp with perspiration and Sefira wants to know what his desperate sweat would taste like. A kinder man would kiss his brow, but Carlo is not that person.

"Look at that," he says, instead. Thomas' cock is flushed and thick with blood, half risen against his pale thighs. He tries to look away but Carlo grips his chin and drags him back. "You like the idea of them questioning you?"

"No."

"But would you would lie to them for me?"

Thomas closes his eyes, like he's trying to hide from his own arousal. "Yes," he says softly.

"What if they demanded what you give me, would you take them each for me?"

Thomas' cock is growing steadily harder and Carlo enjoys the way it bobs when Thomas shifts unconsciously. He can't read Thomas' individual thoughts, but he can read the body on display before him. Its sensitive skin and its shivers, its greedy obvious arousal.

"No," Thomas says, arching, his eyes blinking open again as if he needs them to back up his answer.

Carlo grips his jaw more tightly, holding him in place so he has to keep his head still, has to keep his eyes focused and staring up.

"Give me your hand," Carlo orders, and Thomas raises it, staring at it fixedly. Carlo caresses the fingertips absently, imagining the things a man could do with a hand if he needed answers, things Sefira knows and wants to talk about. 

"Lick it," he says, moving it to Thomas' face and placing it, palm open, in front of his mouth. Sefira reacts as Thomas' tongue dutifully comes out and licks his palm, her tail tapping impatiently against his shoulder.

"Now - touch yourself," he says, guiding Thomas' hand downward. 

He watches with some satisfaction as Thomas tentatively reaches down and then curls his fingers around his stiffening cock.

They both watch as it firms under the attention of their gaze. Carlo takes the moment to watch fondly, knowing full well the way Thomas is almost afraid of his own pleasure until he's get far enough along to forget where he is and hand over his attention completely.

When Carlo squeezes more tightly on Thomas' jaw to bring his attention back up, Thomas' hand tightens on his cock as well, a mirror reaction that gives Carlo a small thrill.

"Get yourself close," he says.

Thomas makes a noise but he starts to obey, slowly teasing his hand up and down himself.

"Like this?" he says, as if Carlo might yet correct him. "You're sure you don't want-."

Carlo brings his hands up to his mouth and bites his gloves off carefully, letting them pointedly drop to the floor beneath him. Thomas' mouth falls open as he watches, his hand starting to move faster.

"What makes you think I want anything from someone who can't follow my instructions?"

"I'm sorry,"

"I know you are," Carlo says, bringing one set of bare fingers to run carefully across the rim of Thomas' ear. "And that's why you're going to follow these new instructions, aren't you?"

Thomas nods, his flushed cheeks darkening.

"There are ways of making men talk, you know," Carlo says, lightly pinching the lobe of Thomas' ear. "Ways to make a body talk for you." 

In the background he can hear the soft noises of Thomas' hand moving back and forth, punctuated by his clumsy breaths.

"Tools that you can use," he continues casually, lowering his head so he's closer to Thomas' and can speak more softly.

Thomas bites his lip and his muscles tense in a way Carlo would put money on him not knowing about or meaning to do. The tip of his cock is wet when Carlo next glances and Thomas' hands have slowed down, are only gripping loosely.

"Don't cheat."

Thomas starts up again, a little tighter. Now when the flush head of his cock emerges from his grip, Carlo can see precome visibly leaking from his slit.

"Are you loyal to me, Thomas?"

"Yes," Thomas says, without a moment for thought.

"Will you protect my secrets?"

"Yes," Thomas says, staring directly at Sefira.

"My plaything," Carlo says silkily, teasing his now bare fingertips against Thomas' throat.

"Yes," Thomas gasps.

"Show me, then," he says. "So I know for sure. Show me what is mine."

Thomas comes with a bitten off cry, spilling himself all over his fist and stomach. He gasps erratically as he keeps going, squeezing out a final spurt, then slumping still and boneless into the chair.

Carlo runs a thumb over Thomas' wet lips, pleased with himself, pleased with Thomas, the mistake with the door a thing of the past.


End file.
